


From My Arms

by SubtextEquals



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon, Roman mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubtextEquals/pseuds/SubtextEquals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir are ready to find a new life for themselves. But when Agron loses his life to infection, Nasir exchanges his own and more to bring him back. Agron must find his way through tasks both menial and dangerous while reining back his own fury so he can hold the gods to their promise to restore Nasir to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you can imagine from the summary, the major character death tag comes with a huge "*sort of" attached to it.
> 
> Huge thank you to [gedre-yashel](http://gedre-yashel.tumblr.com) for being my beta.

The band of survivors had only just made it out of the mountain, with the whole of the world stretched out before them. Agron was more subdued than the warrior he had once been, before Spartacus’s death. Everyone he’d held close to his heart save Nasir had lost their lives in battle. Agron did not regret their revolt but he regretted that they could not crush the empire as Crixus had wanted. But the determination he felt at carrying out Spartacus’s last hope and leading these people to freedom was part of what kept him going. The rest, and most of it, was Nasir.

Everyone turned to Agron to lead them but Nasir was the one who quietly guided him. He never made the decisions but his words helped soothe Agron and keep him on course. In private moments, when Agron woke shaking, Nasir pressed closer and whispered words of comfort as he stroked his hair. On the fewer times when Nasir did the same, Agron held him tighter and kissed his neck. Actions and not words were his favored course and his lover seemed just as comforted by it.

Agron had other needs. They were not the intimacy that they had not shared since he had left in an attempt to overthrow Rome. Instead, it was the care of his wounds. Bruises and cuts had healed, but the wounds in his hands still required bandages.

“Do they yet cause pain?” Nasir asked him as he unwound the cloth covering Agron’s hand.

“No,” Agron lied.

Nasir glanced up at him, frowned, then went back to his task.

Agron scowled at the opening of their tent so he did not notice right away that Nasir had stopped moving.

“What is it?” he asked and finally looked down at his unwrapped hand.

Streaks of red spread out from a now reopened wound. The bottom of the old cloth that Nasir held had a faint blood stain where it had been closest to the skin.

“Fuck,” Agron swore. He thought he hadn’t pushed himself that much, but in between his attempts at helping erect and dismantle the tent, he must have reinjured the wound.

Nasir quickly placed a new bandage on the hand, covering it from any more exposure to the air. “I will tend to other hand then seek someone with knowledge of herb.” His voice was tight.

Agron could read the signs of worry on his lover’s face. As Nasir tied the cloth around his hand, he spoke. “There’s no reason for concern. Spartacus healed from worse.”

Although Spartacus had passed out in front of Agron, been lost in a fever, and nearly died, even with a medicus to treat him.

“You have survived countless battles. I will not lose you so easily.” A flicker of a smile crossed Nasir’s face before he kissed Agron.

Agron, more than content with this, attempted to deepen the kiss but Nasir pulled away to focus on his other hand. Still, Agron grinned, and as soon as Nasir had finished, he guided him to their pallet with his broken hands. Even if all they did was lie together, exhausted and worn, Agron felt nothing but happiness as he wrapped his arms around Nasir and pressed his face to his neck, trailing down kisses that led to nothing more than Nasir softly moaning. It was enough.

 

Agron’s hand throbbed with each step. He blinked as the path in front of him moved out of focus, then tilted. He heard Nasir’s voice but distorted, echoing in his mind as he tried to process it. There was a touch on his arm to steady him and he fought not to sink all his weight against the hand that lay on him. It stilled him.

Agron shook his head as he heard Nasir speak again.

“...Must stop!”

He didn’t know who his lover was speaking to. What did he need to stop doing? Why was it so hard to take Nasir’s face in, blurred as it was.

“Agron.”

Agron gave Nasir a faint smile at the sound of his name on the man’s lips. Then he collapsed onto him.

When he awoke, he lay on a pallet. He didn’t have the strength yet to open his eyes. Murmurs flowed over him, indiscernible at first, then growing clearer.

Nasir’s was the first one he recognized, in spite of the accent that he’d grown used to. “Only several days have passed since infection started. He should not be as this.”

Agron’s eyes slowly slid open. He was inside a tent-- their tent. Hadn’t he been walking? They couldn’t stop. They needed a home, some place to find safety in. He tried to push himself up off of the pallet but even as he stirred his sluggish body, he found resistance in the form of hands pressing him gently down.

“Rest.”

Only now did Agron look to the side and see Nasir seated by him. His lover bent over him and kissed his forehead. He stroked Agron’s cheek before standing and continuing his conversation in a hushed tone Agron could not understand.

In the days that followed he could understand little. Nasir was there, even when he didn’t speak or hold him, Agron was aware of his presence. While he had little memory of Nasir cleaning him or feeding him, he did remember Nasir’s voice, if not the words.

When he opened his eyes for the last time, Nasir’s face was clear. He could see his look of desperation.

Nasir cupped Agron’s face in his hands. “You will not leave me.”

Why was Nasir questioning that? “Never.” The word barely made it out of his mouth. As soon as they did, before he could process Nasir’s bittersweet smile, he lost his sight.

Then he lost everything.

 

Agron’s mind was clear but the confusion inside him lingered. He stood inside his tent, facing the entrance, and his ears should have hurt from the sound of wailing beside him but they didn’t. He turned to find the source of the cries torn from a chest of a man who sounded in agony.

“Nasir?” He moved to comfort him and then froze as he saw who Nasir sat beside.

It was himself. He hadn’t had a chance to inspect himself during the height of his illness and fever. Now he saw the red and black splotches of skin that had enveloped his arm and snaked its way up to his shoulder. The same discoloration was on his face and chest. It touched so much of his inflamed body that Agron recoiled.

That was not him.

“No, Nasir that is not--” He reached for his lover but his hand passed through Nasir’s shoulder. “me…” Agron raised up his hand. The flesh appeared normal but he couldn’t touch his lover.

“Fuck me, I’m--” No, he couldn’t be dead. Nasir needed him.

He knelt next to Nasir. “I am beside you. Look at me.”

But even if he turned toward him, Nasir would not have been able to see through the tears that clouded his vision and spilled onto his cheeks. The tent moved and others rushed inside. Sibyl sat where Agron was, causing him to jerk back. She placed her hands on Nasir’s shoulder and whispered to him.

“That one did love you.”

Agron turned at the voice, which sounded amused more than anything else. At the back of the crowd a man wearing a hat with two wings attached towered over the people.

“Yes, I break words with you,” he spoke directly to Agron.

Agron looked back to Nasir, who was being pushed away from… his body. Then he turned back to the man just as the survivors spread apart. The man looked exquisite, carved as only a god could be. Having only known the Roman customs for the past few years and never having believed in them, it only registered then.

“...Mercurius?”

“Did hat not cause recognition at first glance?” The god pointed to said item before moving past the people who had gathered.

“I do not believe in you. This is but fever dream.” When he moved to look at Nasir again, he saw him struggling to find his way back to Agron.

“They hold belief,” the product of a dream spoke. He pointed at Nasir, now at Agron’s side again. “He holds belief.”

Agron scoffed. He might swear at Roman gods by force of habit but he had never thought they were real. Nasir, for some reason, still clung to the religion. Agron excused it by the fact that he knew no other. He had never thought it might be real.

“Time runs short and you are expected.” Mercurius held out his hand. “Take hand.”

“Suck cock.” Agron moved for Nasir.

Then he felt a very real hand clamp around his arm. His surroundings dissolved until he was standing by a river. A boat made of rotten planks swayed in front of him. The man perched on it, grasping a row, was beautiful with blond hair that curled and yet his brown eyes were cold and instilled a vague sense of fright even in Agron.

This was past Agron’s knowledge of the life beyond.

“What?”

“Charon,” Mercurius said before shoving Agron inside the boat.

Agron tried to shove him away but the god or whatever he was disappeared. And before he could reach land he found himself in the middle of black water, quickly being ferried to the other side.

 

“What beliefs did he hold? Would he have wanted fire or to rest beneath the earth?”

Nasir’s attention was not on whoever was speaking to him but Agron’s body, now pale with the color of death save for the black of rotted flesh.

“Nasir?”

A small hand touched his arm. Sibyl?

Nasir did not stir.

“We have to leave come morning…” That was Laeta. “Nasir?”

Another voice. “We cannot burn him. It would call attention.”

And another. “What do we bury him with? Dig with hands?”

“We cannot leave him above ground to rot.” Sibyl.

Nasir cupped Agron’s cold face with his hands and pressed his forehead against a dead man’s.

 

Sibyl had to coax Nasir into wrapping Agron in clothes and the cloth that would have been used on the man’s hands. Shortly after they started, Nasir continued on his own until finally, after one last, icy kiss, even Agron’s face was covered. They carried him to the woods, out of sight of travelers. But when the others left Nasir remained behind, sitting by the love of his life, who would now be left to be eaten by animals until there was nothing but scattered bones.

The rustle of newly fallen leaves called his attention to the tree nearest him. He hadn’t even noticed the woman approach. She had a necklace of leaves, newly bloomed flowers in her dark hair, and exuded beauty.

He stared for some time and she smiled at him.

“You are beautiful and skilled too, Nasir.” The name rolled off her tongue at once like a harmonious chord and a shrill note.

“How do you know me?”

“I know you and what you desire.” Her gaze strayed to Agron’s body. “Would you give yourself to have him breathe again?”

“Yes,” Nasir replied without hesitation.

As soon as he gave breath to the word a coldness overtook him.

 

The cloth smothered him as Agron clawed at it. He must have awakened, escaped from his dream, but he didn’t know why he was bound in clothes. He worked to free himself before he lost his breath, quickly shedding each garment save his own. He didn’t even pause when he wondered how he could move his hands, how his fingers curled and palms moved without pain.

Once he had freed his mouth, he could speak only one thing. “Nasir?”

Agron was about to question why he was here, in the woods, nearly suffocating when he heard something slump back onto the ground beside him. As he ripped off the last of the cloths, he turned, and saw Nasir lying flat on the fallen leaves.

“Nasir?” Agron repeated as he crawled closer to him.

And saw that Nasir’s eyes no longer focused on anything. The slight smile on his face did not move. No part of him did. Agron knew the look of death. He had seen it countless times but never as wrenching as when he’d seen it on his brother’s face, not until now.

He couldn’t speak as he placed his hand over Nasir’s neck. Though he searched for a pulse, he knew he wouldn’t find one. Nasir’s skin was still warm but no blood moved through him.

The only breaths he could take came in gasps. He slid his arms under Nasir’s shoulders and legs and lifted him off the ground and into his lap. Nasir’s head fell back, having no life within him to support it. Agron wanted to brush away the leaves that clung to his lover’s hair but he couldn’t move his hands. All he could do was breathe and stare.

Another dream. None of this made sense. It had to be another…

But Nasir’s body felt all too real. So did the tears that stung his eyes.

Something cool brushed his cheek and though he didn’t want to so much as glance away from Nasir, instinct told him to look up.

He saw the faint outline of a person, clear and see through, with a black tinge to it. Nothing more than a shade in the middle of a darkened forest. And it was one that soon turned and walked-- no, was pulled-- as it faded into nothing.

But Agron knew who it was.

“Wait!”

He rose to his feet, still carrying Nasir. He was unable to let go of him even with the knowledge that his soul had left his body-- and now had left Agron’s presence as well. It was only as his grasp on him tightened that he realized the wounds on his hands, even the infected one, had vanished. But he could pay it little mind. He needed to find Nasir. There was a reason he could see him. If that meant he needed to follow then he would.

But when a young woman stepped from behind a tree and into his path, he had no choice but to halt. For a moment her beauty struck him but it failed to move him. The fact that she was the only other person in the woods and that Nasir was dead in his arms was enough.

“If you have brought harm to him--” Agron started for the woman.

She stood her ground, unintimidated by Agron’s size and anger. “Choice was his.” She glanced at Nasir’s body with only the slightest of interest before returning her gaze to Agron’s eyes. “I offered your life in exchange for his. Deal was made.”

“Fucking lies. Speak who has killed him or I--” Agron laid Nasir on the ground as he spoke and then charged the woman.

She easily stepped aside. “Threats will only cause harm to you.”

Agron turned and glared at the woman. “What are you?”

Her reply was darker now. “You have already met my brother. You should not be so slow, Agron.”

“Proserpina.” He had just threatened the wife of Pluto. But he had once promised Nasir that not even the gods would part them. He would not be cowed by this-- goddess? It still seemed impossible.

“Bad luck follows those who speak my name,” she spoke with ease now. “Were promise not given I would see you to ground. I have new charge to tend.” Her eyes strayed to Nasir again, she smiled, and then she sprang into a run. Her feet never disturbed the leaves.

Agron could not say what possessed him, whether it was his inability to leave Nasir’s body or the sudden instinct that told him he needed to keep him or he would lose him forever. But he quickly took Nasir into his arms again and raced after Proserpina.

He would swear she was teasing him. He would catch a glimpse of her feet, her green dress interwoven with black threads, and when he lost track of her he could hear her laughter. She wanted him to follow. Reason told him it was a trap. His heart told him he had to keep going even as his legs burned and arms ached from Nasir’s weight.

Finally, he lost sight of her completely. The sound of her voice no longer echoed. He wandered in the direction he’d last seen her in and stumbled across a hill with the gaping hole leading to a cave. The plants closest to it were dead. The green color of life had long given way to brown. The scent of decay filled him, causing Agron to gag.

He laid Nasir down next to the cave’s entrance. The sun had not yet risen in the sky. The light of dawn was not enough to illuminate the darkness though Agron peered inside anyway. It was far cooler than outside.

Resolved, he turned back to Nasir and paused. In the hours that had passed since he had last seen Nasir’s face, it had turned a purplish color though his lips were pale. His appearance was so unlike the man he had loved. What purpose was there in taking his body with him? He didn’t know.

He did anyway.

The temperature plummeted the farther Agron walked into the cave until shivers ran through his body. It was pitch black. He kept stumbling into the walls until a light shone through, guiding him forward.

He stepped into a clearing in the cave and recalled his dream, knowing with a certainty that it had been real. He was standing in front of the river Styx, with Charon, the menacing man from before.

“There are years yet before you cross river again.” Charon waved his hand. “Go.”

“No.” Agron would not waver from this. “You will take me now. I will not fucking wait to die in bed, old and empty.” He knew there would be nothing left for him without Nasir.

“There is no return for you again.”

“Then I will not miss a fucking moment.” Agron moved toward the boat and set Nasir’s body inside before climbing in.

Charon stared at him before coming to a decision and hopping into the boat. “Exceptions, always exceptions. You will regret decision.”

Agron stroked Nasir’s hair back into place. “I will not.”

Charon laughed quietly as he ferried them across.

This time Agron went farther than he had before but the journey seemed to take an age. It stretched on for far longer than he remembered. For the first time since he’d woken, he was able to regard his hands. It hadn’t occurred to him how he’d used them, so focused had he been on Nasir. Now, while he struggled not to think of his body beside him, he raised his hands in front of him and stared. There was no wound, not even a scar. He curled his fingers and felt no pain.

The gods had not served him well, giving him what he’d desired for so long but in return taking from him what was most dear without any regard to his own wishes.

Though she said that had been Nasir’s doing... 

In time he brushed back his bitterness enough for his eyes to grow tired. He started to drift until he heard a snarl. When he opened his eyes he was at the riverbank and an enormous dog snapped its jaws at him as it loomed closer. All three of its jaws.

Charon waved his hand and the dog stopped and retreated just before it would have torn Agron apart, with all three heads vying for his flesh.

“He belongs here,” Charon spoke. He then looked back at Agron. “Do not set foot into rivers. Make way to Pluto.”

“How?” Agron only saw five rivers and no path leading to the god of Hades.

Charon gestured vaguely to their right and then stared at Agron pointedly until Agron picked up Nasir and stepped off the boat. At once Charon set off again, leaving Agron stranded. Which was just as well if all failed.

He’d had some time to come up with a plan. But it could easily be lost. He found himself wishing he’d paid more attention to Nasir’s devotions instead of rolling his eyes and ignoring him. What sort of demeanor did this god of death have?

He walked in the direction Charon gestured. He felt Nasir’s body stiffening and didn’t dare look down to see how else he’d transformed from the man that he’d loved and the body he’d worshipped.

After a time his feet tread on stone and not long after that he saw a staircase carved into it. He didn’t see much of an option than to follow it, walking lower and lower until he found himself in a brightly lit antechamber, and past that a broad room, full of creatures and beings he didn’t recognize. At the back of all of them, elevated on a throne, sat a man whose skin looked almost deathly, especially when framed by his dark hair. Leaning on his shoulder was Proserpina. And beside her…

“Nasir!” It didn’t occur to Agron how strange it was to be holding his lover’s corpse while seeing him in front of him. He sprang for him regardless.

But Nasir, shimmering in a grey hue, dressed in dark armor that fully covered him, regarded him with hardened eyes, and pointed the spear he held at him.

Agron immediately stopped.

“Nasir--” He couldn’t comprehend what had happened for a moment, staring into those eyes that were both familiar and strange, but when he did he couldn’t contain himself. “What the fuck have you done!” he yelled at Proserpina.

And then Nasir stepped forward and pressed the point of the spear against Agron’s throat.

Proserpina drew herself up to her full height. “Do not kill him.”

At once, Nasir withdrew the spear and took a step back. But the look that he gave Agron did not falter for one second. He hated him.

“I needed servant of my own,” Prosperina spoke. “All here answer to my husband. Nasir has skill with sword and spear. He is clever and loyal-- and pleasing to look at.”

Agron tensed. Pluto seemed unmoved by his wife’s last comment and instead slipped his hand through hers.

Gods. Fuck them and their weird fucking habits.

“You’ve made him fucking slave,” Agron growled.

“As part of agreement.”

Agron lowered Nasir’s body onto the floor beside him. He wanted to be able to tear these people at a moment’s notice. If he could find a way to reunite Nasir’s spirit with his body he could…

Nasir’s body, which was now--

Agron looked away and back at Prosperina. “He would never again see collar round neck.”

“The arrangement was not explicit,” Proserpina admitted with a nod of her head. “Yet he would have agreed regardless.” She touched Nasir’s chin and turned him to face her as she might a child. “Is that not true?”

Nasir regarded her only with confusion.

Proserpina released him. “Voice cannot give his own answer. You will have to lay trust in mine.”

“What have you fucking done!” This time Agron roared the words.

His action prompted a gesture from Pluto and the demons and beings swarmed in a semicircle around Agron, boxing him in alongside Nasir’s corpse. Agron knew that any future attempts of violence would only result in his own end. He could not fight, he could not punch and strangle these gods and spirits for what they had done.

Proserpina spoke as the realization struck Agron. “He was bathed in the river Lethe, enough to remove all ties of loyalty and memory of others. But he still retains the spirit of a warrior.”

“You tricked him,” Agron insisted. His hands curled into fists.

“We are gods,” Pluto spoke. His voice echoed but retained its clearness. “If you are foolish then it is not ours to care about.”

“If you are gods then I may provide a service, one to equal his return. If I take his place--”

Proserpina laughed. “You are too aggressive and not as pleasurable to look at.”

For the first time, Pluto inclined his head toward his wife with a less than pleased look.

“I wish only to look,” Proserpina said without an ounce of defensiveness.

Pluto shrugged and gave one of his subjects a tired look but he gave no other indication of resistance to the idea.

Agron didn’t mind the slight against him. He was too focused on restoring Nasir’s life to him and keeping these gods as leering eyes and fucking hands away from him.

“I yet offer any service,” Agron said. “If you will heal broken body and give life to him.”

Proserpina and Pluto exchanged a look. No word passed between them but after a while the queen of the underworld spoke.

“Oh, you had the last one.”

Pluto inclined his head

Proserpina smiled and turned to Agron, looking as giddy as a girl yet unwed and full of promise. “There are tasks I would have of you. If you would but give me a moment.”

“A moment?” Agron snapped.

Nasir grasped his spear tighter. Agron fell silent, lost in the depths of hatred in those eyes, searching for any sign of remembrance in them.

He waited until Proserpina tapped her chin. “Yes, I desire that you raze a farm to ground. The first that lies in your path. You will know it.”

“ _What_?” Agron gaped. He wanted some task of monumental strength or the death of Romans-- anything but the destruction of a person’s way of life.

That was, unless they were Roman. Then he couldn’t care less.

“Winter has almost come. You would but do my mother favor, as you will when you till farm to bring life to it.”

“I am no fucking farmer,” Agron spat. “You expect me to stand idle as winter passes to spring?”

Proserpina glanced at Nasir’s corpse. “Then I will let you return with--”

“No.” Agron held up his hand to stay her. “I will--” He had no choice. This was a goddess. How could he negotiate without threats? “...Bend to command. Is that all you would have of me?” He found it hard to believe that was all that was required of him.

“More will be revealed in time. Return to me when they are complete and I will set further tasks.” She waved at Nasir’s body. “You shall leave that with me.”

“How do I know this is no plot?” Agron’s eyes moved from Nasir’s spirit, to Proserpina, to Nasir’s body.

The body was now restored to what it had been when Agron first woke from death. Not yet pale but still and taking in no breaths.

“Restoration lies in my power,” Proserpina said. “Giving you proof does not lie in my desire. Go, fulfill tasks, or fail and turn back on one you hold most dear.”

Agron took a step back and the demons that surrounded him parted to give him room again. But he only had eyes for Nasir.

“They will not keep you from me,” he promised.

Nasir’s face held only a scowl for him.

Swallowing back the bitterness and sorrow, Agron left to save him.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, Charon seemed to know that Agron was free to return to the world of the living and he waved at Cerberus to keep him away. Agron no longer had to carry Nasir’s weight with him but that made the journey no easier. Once he managed to free himself from the cave, he tried to retrace his steps but he had no success. Over the crunch of his feet against the forest floor, he heard someone call.

“Nasir!”

How long had it been? It was approaching nightfall. Did that mean less than a day had passed or had it been more? But they were still searching for Nasir. They wouldn’t find him.

Agron attempted to steel himself but his face twisted regardless. It took some time, and more cries, before he was able to approach the calls. In time he recognized the voices. Sibyl seemed most prominent and the closest.

He’d had some time to make them more than acquaintances but in the wake of Spartacus and others’ deaths, nothing had seemed important beyond Nasir and his safety. Sibyl… she believed in the gods, didn’t she? Perhaps she would believe him and give him aid.

He followed the sound of her voice until he saw her, a battered cloak around her, which still did little to conceal her exposed sides.

“Nasir?” She was softer this time as she heard someone approach.

Agron glimpsed a relieved smile before her expression turned into shock. She took a step away from him and grabbed her cloak tighter as if that would protect her.

“Sibyl, I won’t harm you.” Agron did his best to sound calm but since Nasir had died, calm was a word now foreign to him. “The gods had hand in this.”

Sibyl still regarded him with caution. Agron was unused to that look of fear being directed at him by someone he knew, one that was close to panic.

“You appear no shade,” Sibyl said, just managing to keep her voice from trembling.

“Nasir…” Agron’s voice caught. He had to take a moment to breathe and swallow to release the tightness in his throat that threatened to constrict until he couldn’t breathe. “He made exchange. My life for his.”

Sibyl didn’t speak for a moment but then she took a step in Agron’s direction. “He would, as I would for…” She walked closer until she was within reach and gingerly laid two fingers on Agron’s arm. Her face crumpled for a moment before she looked at Agron. “How?”

Agron did his best to explain. He left out the moment of dying, of seeing himself surrounded and his own corpse. In fact, most of what transpired before he found himself before Nasir’s dead body was not spoken of entirely. It felt at once both too personal and taboo to give voice to it. He did tell her of his journey after and that he had tasks to complete. He did not say what the first one was, only the second, to restore a farm and its land. He knew she would not approve of something he would never have agreed to if it weren’t for Nasir.

And then when he had finished, when she nodded and believed him, her eyes softened.

“When you were in Hades, did you lay eyes on Gannicus?” she asked.

“I saw none but Nasir,” Agron replied, not without feeling for her but in his own rough way.

At the time, it hadn’t occurred to him to try and find his friends and his brother, perhaps the rest of his family as well. He had been too focused and the way had seemed clear, but now that she asked it stirred new feelings in him of regret and longing to return to speak to them. He could see Nasir again as well, perhaps there was another way…

But he was playing a god’s game. He needed time to learn its rules and twist them to his purpose.

Sibyl took a breath and nodded. “We must return to camp. Others seek Nasir. They wish to leave tomorrow.”

Agron gave no protest but voiced another concern. “Tell me of your gods.”

Spartacus had once told him never to underestimate his enemy. If he was to avoid that shortcoming then first he would need to know them.

Sibyl spoke as she led him. Agron did his best to pay attention and narrow his focus to a point but his mind kept straying back to Nasir. He’d left him behind to serve under a fucking goddess, one who viewed him as nothing more than bodyguard and something to look at or even--

Agron told himself that would not happen. Proserpina was married. Pluto would not allow it, not in his kingdom. But the fact still remained that he’d seen Nasir in all but chains and he had turned his back on him.

“Here,” Sibyl had brought him to a small array of tents. Most of the people were not crowded inside yet. A few of the soldiers who’d survived stood sentry but once they saw him they moved to get between him and the other survivors.

Both Agron and Sibyl saw what was happening.

“He was sent by the gods!” she spoke louder than Agron had heard her before, which, granted, had not been that much. But despite their weak relationship, she stepped in front of him to keep him away from raised swords.

“He is fucking dead, sent by gods only to torment.” Pollux, a fellow gladiator spoke. He pointed his sword at them.

Agron got his arms on Sibyl’s to push her aside and felt a slight tremble run through her body. She still resisted him.

Laeta pushed through the people gathered to take in the scene. “Pause a moment and let--”

Pollux shoved her back. “Break words!”

Sibyl still struggled against Agron. “Nasir traded life for his. You cannot--”

“Then Agron has taken his life and will take--”

At this Agron shoved Sibyl aside. “I did not fucking kill him! If you had stood better guard he would yet draw breath--”

Diplomacy had been lost the moment Pollux blamed Agron for Nasir’s death when if Nasir had never been given the chance to make a deal with Proserpina, he would be alive and free. He would know who Agron was.

But it was not Agron who struck first.

Pollux lunged and Agron narrowly dodged the blade that would have gone through his chest. Taking advantage of Pollux’s overextension, he balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into his head, followed by his other fist. Now exploiting how dazed Pollux was, he grabbed for the hilt of the sword.

What followed was nothing but a frenzy as Agron struggled with Pollux and Sibyl with Lydon, who had come up behind Agron with his spear. There were screams and they only drew more attention and others coming.

Agron kicked Pollux’s stomach and finally wrenched the sword from his hands. “Apologies,” he snarled. He had known Pollux since his first days as a gladiator but it was hard to feel remorse now when he’d been nearly murdered and his chance at saving Nasir would have been lost.

He backed into the woods, eyes darting to each fighter that might threaten him and Sibyl, who had been pulled from the mess but did not seem to be facing any more reprisal.

“I will take fucking leave.” He did not take his eyes off them as he stepped back, not until they were all out of sight.

He couldn’t let himself curse them, the gods, and everything that had led Nasir and him into this situation, if only because he might have been heard and found.

Night had come but Agron had to walk in spite of the chill. He needed distance between him and the people he’d fought and nearly died for. _Had_ died for. Only when his strength had long since flagged and his body threatened exhaustion did he stop. He had no food, no spear to throw at animals. Only a fucking sword to go in charging and scare every creature off. There were little plants left to eat. He was fucked.

“Agron?”

He turned. How had he not noticed fucking _Sibyl_ following him? She approached carrying what looked to be blankets and rations.

“Did they remove you from camp?” Agron asked. If that was Sibyl’s penalty for helping Agron then it had been his fault as so many things were.

Sibyl shook her head. “I left freely.”

“Why?”

She looked at him as though the answer was obvious. “You have been sent by the gods. I would lend you aid.”

“And take chance of seeing Gannicus?” Agron’s voice was a little too sharp. He clenched his jaw when he saw the way Sibyl averted her gaze.

“Take pause and listen to words. The gods do not care for us. We are but fucking toys to them.”

Sibyl waited a moment before opening her mouth, eyes as wide and clear as ever. “They have answered our prayers--”

“Then see fucking results! I cannot lead you, Sibyl. I cannot let you follow or protect you. I could not protect Nasir. Go back to them.” By the time he finished, Agron’s body was shaking.

“Agron.”

“Go,” he repeated. “Give them your prayers and aid.”

Sibyl hesitated, then laid the blankets and rations at her feet. “For your journey. May the gods--” She stopped herself before starting anew. “Save Nasir.”

“I will,” Agron promised to her and, for what was now a countless number of times, to himself.

Sibyl backed away. Agron did not offer to escort her as that would only add to her danger. Instead, once she was gone, he rifled through what she had left him and grabbed the blanket. It did not keep him from shivering but at least beneath it his teeth no longer chattered.

 

Agron didn’t risk staying to the main path. He would come close to it, just enough to see if there was anyone else in sight and to assure himself he was going in the right direction. Traveling on his own was far different than traveling with an army, with the five hundred survivors of the assault on Rome, and with Nasir. For the first and the last there was usually someone or something to distract, a conversation shared or the sound of footsteps. And when he had returned to Spartacus, he had been too injured for thoughts to be more than clouds that lingered in his hazy mind. But now all he could think of was Nasir and what he had to do. He knew even then it would not be enough and there might be no promise of returning Nasir whole to his arms. They were gods and him nothing more than a mortal. But he would make them tremble.

Agron would have said that first day was the worst. He pushed himself too far, too desperate to find the fucking farm and complete his task. But in the end he nearly collapsed. He should eat but his stomach turned at the thought of food, let alone the far from decent food in his sack. And when thoughts of survival, necessary though they were, fled his mind all he could think of was Nasir. He pressed his face to his hands and shook. But that was not the worst day. The worst was that they all blended on into the other in the same way.

He wondered if it was the same for Nasir.

He wondered if Nasir was even aware of the passage of time-- or thought.

Sometimes he thought he saw someone following him. He caught a glimpse of a face peering out from behind a tree, one that looked so close to Proserpina’s that he thought it was her until he registered that her hair was a dark brown like the earth. Her footsteps would haunt him or it was his imagination. He was going mad thinking of gods who weren’t his own and yet existed.

He had gone four days, he ate the last of his food at noon before continuing, and then, shortly after nightfall, he found it. It was almost a village but perhaps too small and next to the small homes he saw a field bearing crops that were starting to wilt.

The first that lay in his path. He would know it at first sight. And he did. As he approached, he spied in the dark torches that illuminated Spartacus’s rebels and the former slaves that had been among them. It seemed more of them than had accompanied Agron and Nasir had gathered here.

Fuck the gods.

He stopped, wondering how he could covertly set a fucking field on fire and hope it didn’t spread to the houses that littered the area in a disorganized fashion. He tried to slink away but it was difficult to hide his bulk and a man’s voice called.

“I see you.”

“Fuck my ass,” Agron muttered. And then, louder, “I bear you no ill well.” He was not a man of lies and schemes. The latter fitted Spartacus well while Agron preferred a different approach, to take by force. But he couldn’t do that here with these people, who had done him no wrong.

Whoever it was moved closer, carrying a torch. Agron quickly put his sword away though he could not hide it from sight.

The torchbearer was a man older than Agron, starting to go grey if he judged right through the lighting.

“Let me come to conclusion of own. Another of Spartacus’s stragglers?”

How many had survived and come here? Agron’s eyes drifted to the others, wondering when they would turn on on him.

“Yes,” he said, knowing it was pointless to deny it. The brand on his arm gave him away at first sight.

He could grab the torch, set fire to the place, run, and pray to sadistic gods that no one would be harmed. It was their lives against Nasir’s. He knew that he shouldn’t even consider it. He knew that Nasir wouldn’t want this. But if Nasir could give anything, including his life, for him, then he would have no room to complain when he returned to his body and regained his memories and will.

Agron hardened to his purpose and stepped forward. He could do it now. They wouldn’t suspect.

He was ready.

He didn’t act.

“What is your name?”

“Agron, from the lands east of the Rhine.”

“Agron.” For a moment it seemed as though the man recognized him but then he shrugged him off. “I am Scorilo. Come and see if others vouch for you,”

Agron could see more clearly the people returning to their beds as he walked up the slight incline that was not quite a hill. He knew then, looking at the people he both didn’t know and the ones he had fought for and protected, that he couldn’t do this. There had to be some other way. The woman that followed him, if she was real, if she was a goddess, then perhaps she could help…

All thoughts in that direction ceased when his name rang out in the village and suddenly people were advancing on him with sword and spear. Seeing their reaction, Scorilo turned on him.

“Who are you?”

“This one is shade come to haunt and murder us in sleep, as he did Nasir!” This time it was Lydon who yelled.

He wanted to pummel his former friend until there was nothing but broken bones in him. At the same time he understood why they thought he would haunt them. But to kill Nasir? He could never even consider it.

He thought he could never turn and flee either, but with a horde of people bearing weapons or fists, he didn’t see any other option, especially when he was unwilling to fight the innocents dragged into this. Even with Scorilo waving his torch at him in an attempt to burn his flesh.

“Fuck!”

Agron made a break for the fields. If he could pass through them, away from the people in their homes, and get to the other side, he might have a chance. Then he could backtrack and pray he reached Hades in time before he starved.

It didn’t work out that way.

As soon as he broke into a run, the others followed, and this time he couldn’t even hear Sibyl to try and stop them. That was probably because they were screaming at him.

Fucks. Simple, ungrateful fucks who-- Spartacus had died for.

Agron gritted his teeth and cut clear across the fields. Or almost clear because he heard people tearing after him, including Scorilo, still bearing his torch. While the withering crops, bearing the last of their harvest before it too shriveled, were still beneath him.

Agron stopped at that. “What has possessed fucking mind!”

Then someone shot an arrow at him.

It bounced off his pauldron. Instinct made him draw his sword. That only sent them into a greater frenzy and Scorilo halted so quickly he tripped. The torch fell from his hands. And Agron saw his task come to completion as the fire spread across the field.

“Ignorant, simple minded cunt,” he swore as he sheathed his sword.

If he left now he could easily take advantage of the distraction but in the process let Scorilo burn to death.

“Fuck the gods and everything beneath this fucking ground,” he growled.

Seizing Scorilo, he brought him up to his feet. The fire snaked across the plants faster than was natural and Agron knew with a surety that someone was either aiding him or, more likely, attempting to bring about his death.

“Get hands off me!” Scorilo struggled against him and in the process the flames burned his side.

He reeled back into Agron as he attempted to get away. Agron lost his footing and they both fell. The heat began to smother him but the fumes from it no longer did. Having nothing of his own to smother the fire, Agron ripped Scorilo’s clothes and patted his side down while the man screamed profanities and cursed him. Agron returned the curses. If Scorilo had not been a blind fool bound by hate they would not be here, nearly surrounded by flames.

Agron couldn’t wait any longer. Hoping that the last of the fire on Scorilo was gone, he got his arms around him and heaved him up, tossing him over his shoulder. Stumbling, coughing, he carried him through the only gap in the fire that stretched before them. Before long he was walking almost blind. Smoke stung his eyes until they were all but closed. Coughing, short of breath, he fell to his knees. The heat surrounded him. He waited for the fires to consume him and knew that in time, he would join his brother and Spartacus but would never see Nasir again.

It was that thought that brought him to his feet again but it was not his doing that saw him from the flames. Broad hands grabbed him and pulled at him, guiding him until he no longer felt the heat and tread on cool grass.

Agron’s eyes watered with the tears brought about by the smoke but he managed to crack them open again, enough to see the crowd still regarding him with suspicion and holding what weapons they had. But he didn’t have the strength to run any more as his chest heaved with coughs while simultaneously he gasped for breath. A man unknown to him, the one who had led him, took Scorilo. As soon as he did, Agron fell to his knees.

Still no one had spoken.

“Agron!”

At this moment, Agron wished to hear his name spoken by no one but Nasir yet it was Sibyl’s voice that called. He lifted his head in time to see her run to him. Looking past, he saw people breaking off as Scorilo was carried away, to be tended to, he hoped.

“Sibyl!” Pollux tried to jerk her back. “He caused this.”

“Do you not see he is here to protect us? Your own doing has caused destruction. He sought only aid.”

Agron wanted to tell her the truth about that but voicing the fact that he had actually come to do this very thing was going to get him killed.

Agron’s chest still heaved when Belesa, Saxa’s lover, walked beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Agron resolved that if he had the chance upon his return to Hades, he would thank Saxa for her excellent choice in her last lover.

Laeta soon joined them. “Agron fought for us. He should not be stricken from world for act of destruction not caused by his hands.”

“He saved Scorilo from fire.” A man spoke, this one Agron failed to recognize. Perhaps someone from the village.

“He is fucking demon!”

“Then let him be on his way.”

“No,” Agron rose to his feet but faltered. Sibyl and Belesa were quick to support him. “Let me give compensation. I will sow crop come spring and till land.” He didn’t pray anymore but he hoped they would listen.

“Chain him,” an elderly man, no doubt one of the leaders spoke. “We will decide fate.”

Agron didn’t protest as they led him away. There was no strength left in him though his lips did curl when he was bound like a slave again. A fucking slave.

Just as Nasir was.

 

Once he was thrown into a room in some house, Agron sat not peacefully but compliantly. His brother Duro would have fought. He had against the Romans, as had Agron at first, but his anger quickly gave way into something that only came out in spurts of blood and violence against his fellow gladiators. He knew that if it was directed at the Romans he would be punished and his brother as well. Later, he knew that he needed a plan before he could act and Spartacus had provided one. He wasn’t here now to do the same.

Agron twisted his hands to see if there was some give in the rope but all it did was chafe his hands. He had no choice but to allow events to unfold for now. If he could get Sibyl to help him if the judgment went wrong then he had a chance to get back to Hades and-- what? Admit his failure and beg for Nasir’s release? First he had to find a weapon that could kill, or at least harm, a god.

He became fixated despite seeing no resolution. There was no one to help him or to enlist besides Sibyl and he could hardly take her with him and use her as a shield. Only her knowledge would prove useful and she’d already told him what she knew.

Agron snarled at no one in particular. It was directed at his situation in general. He knew one thing. He needed to save Nasir. He knew another. It was doubtful he’d be able to do that.

Agron would have to do the impossible as he had at Vesuvius, as he had at Melia Ridge. Only this time, he had to achieve it alone. He couldn’t afford any doubts. Yet, as he waited, they gnawed at him. If he couldn’t save Nasir, then his lover was doomed for an eternity like that, worse than the Tiberius he’d been-- Agron couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

When his captors, the ones he hoped to gain the trust of, finally entered, he stood.

“Judgment has been passed.” A man took out a knife and it hovered in the air between them, not unlike the taunt Agron had given Castus long ago. It ended the same way, with the knife slicing through the rope that bound Agron’s hands.

He did not rub at his raw wrists no matter how they stung.

“Gratitude. Am I to stay in village?”

Another man answered him, the elder one that had called the others. “That depends on action of your own.”

The man who had freed Agron stepped to the side but he made a point of letting his knife catch the light from the torch and have it reflect across Agron’s face. Agron had to blink to keep it from burning his eyes.

“You saved Scorilo. Sibyl says you come from the gods. Others speak of your return from the dead. I do not care for rumors and whispers of demons. Speak truth and I will consider your desire.”

Agron had never been much of a liar. He was more one for turning around and insulting people or throwing a punch or two to get them to fuck off and forget whatever question they had. But he could do it and there wasn’t another option. Not everyone was like Sibyl, eager to believe the gods had a personal hand in the world.

“I can give no answer on how I live. I woke in shrouds of cloth. My companions believed me dead and were to leave me. They were mistaken. Recovery must have been sudden or their memory of what happened stretched.” The first part was an easier way to twist the truth, the next part would be harder to convince. He could already see the next question coming.

“And Nasir? You were found claiming your lover dead? What struck him down?”

Agron hesitated but only because he could still see Nasir lying beside him with a smile curving his lips. That must have been from seeing Agron, knowing that he breathed life again just as he was about to lose his own. Proserpina was right. He hadn’t been tricked. That didn’t bring any comfort to Agron now.

“I do not know. When I woke-- he had left this world.” He choked on the words, as he had found himself at a loss when Duro had died, at least until he had filled himself with the death of Romans.

“And his body? Where did you take it?”

He’d taken Nasir’s body to the only people who could help them, and then when they refused had left him there…

Agron swallowed.

“Reason left me. I don’t recall.” He turned aside, then leaned back against one of the walls in the small room before catching himself and straightening. “I would not have brought him harm.” His voice was hoarse though he meant it to be clear and forceful.

The elder paused for a moment. “You saved Scorilo. You are free to leave with the rest of your people.”

Agron’s stomach dropped. “Leave? I must stay to help with--”

“We do not need your help. Go before mind is changed.”

The man who had freed him shoved him by the shoulder toward the door and forcefully guided him outside. Agron had to bite back the litany that was going through his mind, one consisting entirely of the word fuck while he tried to plot a way out of this.

 

He hadn’t managed to find a solution by the time he and the other refugees were sent on their way. A few remained, only enough for the village to feed in addition to their own people. And while Agron had tried to secure a place among them, he had, for obvious reasons, been rejected again. It was probably for supporting him that Sibyl, Laeta, and Belesa had also been sent on their way.

“You did all in your power,” Sibyl assured him as she helped him with the packing.

Agron angrily threw his clothes into a pack in a manner that would have made Nasir lightly smack his hands before taking over. “And yet Nasir remains in fucking grip of--”

“Do not say her name!” Sibyl urged him. Again.

Agron had lost track of how many times she’d done that. And yet he still didn’t care.

“That fucking--”

“Agron,” she hissed more insistently this time.

Agron made a sharp growling noise and threw his second, and last, tunic in the pack before jerking the laces together to close it.

“We will return in spring.”

If they did not starve first, Agron did not say. He had little hope that the next village would take many of them either. Though perhaps they would as long as Agron didn’t burn the fucking fields. Was this why Proserpina had sent him? Because she knew that he would only fail and bring ruin to the people he had fought to save?

And Nasir was still there, not knowing who he was, unfeeling, following only commands.

Agron ran his hand through his hair, making it even more unkempt than normal. Dealing with it was no longer a concern and hadn’t been for some time. Nasir wasn’t here to help him, just as Agron would tie the ribbon in Nasir’s hair at the start of the day, then weave his fingers through his hair and--

Agron had to get him back. Even death would hold no release. He would still lose him.

“Agron?”

Agron slung his pack over his shoulder. “Once we have passed village border I would have sword and spear returned.”

He’d been forbidden from carrying weapons inside the village. Sibyl, charitably, had taken care of his sword and Nasir’s spear for him. Though he’d given her a few pointers first to make sure she didn’t accidentally hurt herself or worse.

He didn’t need more deaths on his hands, not unless they were Romans.

Or gods.


	3. Chapter 3

They’d been pointed in the direction of the nearest village, which was a week’s march given the size of their group. Agron received not so surreptitious glances the whole way. Aside from a few of the more trusting survivors no one wanted to come near him. At least Pollux respected the fact that Agron hadn’t killed anyone yet.

Every now and then Sibyl would try to draw him into a conversation, usually after she pressed some food and a cup of water into his hands. Agron was interested in neither. He kept dwelling on the fact that each step he took was farther from Nasir and his task. How the fuck was he supposed to save him from a week away from that fucking village? And there was no telling if he’d be sent even farther.

In the end, he wasn’t. While most were sent on their way, Agron remained. He would rather have gone with them to see them safe but he had his own path he had to follow. Sibyl and Laeta stayed with him, both citing loyalty to Nasir though Laeta was more hesitant to place faith in him. Agron wondered if she didn’t remain behind to ensure that he didn’t lose his mind completely.

They did not have empty houses available to them so they remained in their tents. Agron had enough room to take someone in now that Nasir was-- now that he was gone. But no one asked and he did not offer.

With no enemies to fight, Agron’s hands grew restless but worse, his mind wandered. He knew that he would have to wait, that he could not sow crops in one night. But to spend a winter knowing what Nasir was going through-- days without the sun to warm his skin or the knowledge of who he had been-- who he was, no matter what they had done to him. Countless times, Agron packed to return to him and spend what time he had left to wait by his side. But he would only be fooled by the gods or killed if he returned with empty hands.

Unless it had been nothing more than a fever dream. Nasir might have wandered, gotten lost, died without Agron to protect him. And somehow…

No. Whenever that thought plagued him he would clench his hands to remind himself of his recovery. There was no natural way to return them to this state. This was work of the gods, as twisted as they were. He owed them for this. And yet he owed them nothing.

He spent his days wandering and his nights lying cold on his pallet, arm sometimes straying to wrap around someone who was no longer there.

He lost count of time, marking it only by the coolness of the air, the snow that fell and tormented him with the knowledge that he had so much longer to wait. He didn’t know how many days he had spent drifting when Laeta pulled back the entrance to his tent.

“Supply of food runs short,” she said forcefully to bring him out of his thoughts.

It worked and Agron’s eyes sharpened when he turned them on Laeta, not harshly but enough to bring her into focus through the clouds of his mind. “You would have me give aid? I am no fucking archer.”

“Yet you have knowledge of spear and one that lies close to hand.”

When Nasir had been taken from this world, he’d left behind his spear. Agron couldn’t part with it, but he could barely touch it either unless it had been to carry it with him on his journey. Now his gaze fell on it, the weapon that Nasir had handled so expertly, one that Agron had taught him how to use only to be quickly surpassed.

He didn’t turn from it. “No.”

“I would not ask if need did not drive us.” Laeta stepped inside once she was done speaking.

Agron glared at her for that. “What words would you break to change mind?”

“Would you see us starve? Do you think yourself only to have lost one you have loved?” Laeta’s voice finally grew harsh as she voiced a truth that rang unpleasant in Agron’s ear. “Spartacus placed trust in you.”

Agron stood. He might have appeared more menacing had his head not been partially obscured by the top of the tent before he ducked. He stared at Laeta, this Roman woman who had betrayed them and yet provided comfort to Spartacus although he could not go as far as to call them lovers. She had lost him and yet she had lost more too, her husband, a city, her freedom. While Agron maintained she deserved it, she knew. And worse, she had a point.

He turned and reached for Nasir’s spear. His fingers trembled before grasping the shaft, which Nasir had so often held with a surety. Both familiarity and skill lent him to let go, to adjust positions, before holding it again within seconds. But for Agron it felt strange, knowing that weeks ago it had been Nasir who claimed this weapon.

As soon as the moment passed he pulled the spear closer and moved past Laeta.

“Do you go alone?” Laeta asked.

Agron meant to answer but no words passed his lips.

 

In the past, Agron usually hadn’t been the one to hunt, nor was he the one to prepare the food. Too often his time was occupied in counsel with Spartacus or else supervising new recruits. Nasir too had his tasks but somehow he was better at balancing them. Now Agron found himself taking care of all-- staying in the woods for days with little but a cloak around him, making shelter from branches, eating what he killed and, if it were big enough, returning to the village to share the meat.

He was somewhat surprised he didn’t have frostbite by now. He’d been through worse at Melia Ridge but at least then he’d had Nasir to warm him. Now he was alone and, while he’d grown accustomed to it, solitude was no comfort. Neither was the presence of the others.

Each day that passed it grew harder to contain his anger. He had known better than to attack a god before, but now, thinking about what Nasir was going through, he was ready. How fitting it would be to return to Pluto and strike him down with Nasir’s spear before grabbing his lover and--

And then what? To be attacked by him in return?

He could not hear Spartacus but he knew what he would advise. Patience, however hard it would be, and then to take him back in any way he could. Sometimes he would entreat the gods, his own, Nasir and Sibyl’s, someone nameless, anyone that could help him. And then he pressed his clenched hands to his head.

His prayers, or rather demands and pleas, were never answered. Winter was giving way to spring as the cold now seeped away from the air.

But, sitting on the still cool ground, his thoughts didn’t keep him from noticing the crunch of footsteps approaching. He stood in a moment, hefting his-- Nasir’s-- spear high, half expecting Proserpina to emerge now that spring was almost here. But when he saw who it was he froze.

Nasir.

No, it took him only a moment to realize his mistake. The face was wrong, smaller, the chin more pointed. His eyes were a shade lighter. But the build, the skin, the way his black hair was pulled back was all so similar. Yet the smile on this man’s face was not Nasir’s. Nasir had two smiles: one that he wore when he was about to bare his teeth and another that made him glow like how Agron had imagined the gods to before he met them.

This one just seemed sultry as he approached, with an arrow strung on his bow but pointed at the ground. He was dressed only in a tunic and wearing sandals. Agron didn’t recognize him, which meant he had come here like that from somewhere.

“You think I pose threat?” The man asked, amused.

Agron did not lower the spear. “How did you come here?” He glanced to the side. Had he missed someone else? Was this some trap?

And how the fuck did this man look so much like Nasir? Was that just what Agron wanted to see?

“I followed your trail. Laeta sent me to find you.”

“I’ve never laid eyes on you before.”

The man stopped smiling. “I arrived in village two weeks past. You did not notice?”

“I have not had cause to notice people of little concern to me.” Agron was not entirely convinced but the man knew Laeta’s name and he was no Roman by the look of him, nor judging by the accent he had. It was more pronounced than Nasir’s and yet another reminder of him.

Slowly, Agron lowered his spear.

“I am called Anlel,” the man offered in advance of the question Agron was about to pose.

“Anlel, did Laeta send you for reason?” He was no less hostile now that he knew his name even if he was no longer ready to spear Anlel. Not right now at least.

“To join you in hunt and walk with you to village two hours before dusk. She tells you have not returned in days.”

“I do not require fucking help.” Agron’s lips curled back in a soundless snarl. “Leave.”

“I did not bring bow and arrow to let it lie to waste. Let me walk alongside in silence or turn spear on me.”

Agron curled his fingers tighter around Nasir’s spear. Of course he wouldn’t kill this man. He had no reason to. And he was so similar to Nasir--

At the same time as he felt a pull toward Anlel and his similarity to the one he still loved, he recoiled at any thought that appearance might prompt.

“Then walk in front of me. And close fucking mouth.”

 

Agron hated waiting more than ever. It wasn’t just that the days grew longer as spring approached, taunting him more than ever. It was _him._ Anlel. He followed Agron virtually everywhere he went, like a stray, unwanted dog.

It was time to be rid of him and, most importantly, bring himself closer to Nasir. He tied the bundle of his clothes, left the spear and sword outside, and set to work dismantling the tent.

“What moves hands to dismantle home?”

Agron sighed. Of course it was Anlel. It couldn’t be Sibyl, Laeta, or any of the others. But that fucking man with his fucking muscles and fucking skin, eyes, hair, and--

Agron cut himself off from those thoughts with a scowl. “I leave today. Did I not break words on subject?”

“I had thought them jest.” Still, Anlel moved to help him pull apart the fabric and fold it.

Agron didn’t know if he should thank him or glare at him some more. “What reason would I have to lie?”

Anlel met the question with one of his own. “What reason would you have to return alone to place that cast you out?”

“Sibyl will provide company.” Agron seized the fabric from Anlel’s hands.

He wasn’t overjoyed that Sibyl was coming with him but he’d given up on trying to stop her. She’d latched onto him in a way that wasn’t entirely healthy, now that she knew of the simple tasks given to him by the gods.

“Is she only one you desire to accompany you?”

Agron would say he had a greater appreciation for what Nasir had gone through with Castus but as far as he could tell, Castus hadn’t been this much of an annoying cunt to Nasir.

He replied in a clipped tone. “Yes.”

“You shall have one more.”

“Remain and find one who may show gratitude.” Agron moved off before he could register what Anlel was saying.

He thought he was rid of him for good before he found Sibyl on the outskirts of the village hours later and saw she was not alone.

“Anlel, what the fuck?”

Sibyl glanced between the two of them and edged away from Anlel.

“You would remove choice from hands?” Anlel asked. He smiled briefly. “I do not fall to your command.”

“I do not fucking command!” Agron spat. “You--” He made a noise of frustration before walking past them both. “I will not fucking coddle you if you wish to turn back.”

“I will not wish it,” Anlel said.

Agron wanted to kick something.

“Agron,” Sibyl started. “When we arrive, perhaps I should break words.”

“I will answer for my actions.” Agron glanced alongside him at Anlel, who had caught up to him.

He sped up again. He was not going to answer for any other transgression.

 

The village had been less than welcoming at his arrival. At first they didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t until then that Agron realized how much weight he had lost and the change that had come over him. He could blame it on winter and the small rations he’d had before realizing he’d refrained from them willingly, barely able to stomach anything.

But when they realized it was him, he was dragged into the center of the village and forced to wait there while the elder was summoned yet again. Sibyl and Anlel were separated from him by a crowd of people and eventually Anlel gave up on trying to get to him and focused on holding Sibyl back. At least he was good for something other than looking pretty.

When the elder arrived he was accompanied by another. A tunic covered Scorilo’s burns but Agron knew that they must be there, twisted, ugly, and making it painful for him to walk judging by the occasional wince as skin stretched tight with each step. They were his fucking fault for blindly chasing a man.

“You return?” The elder spoke, looking more withered than ever. Winter had taken its toll.

“To make amends,” Agron answered.

“What amends would you make? Your former fellows tell of hardened man of steel with blood in his heart. No farmer.”

Agron would have agreed with that assessment. He had agreed in the past, when justifying the course of his actions to Nasir. But everything had changed once he’d returned to him and once Nasir had been taken from him. Still, to hear his doubts aloud was a blow he waged his own battle against.

He sucked in his bottom lip as he bit back a more aggressive response. But there was a proud, stubborn jut to his chin as he spoke. “I will learn.”

“We have no cause to teach.”

“You cannot turn away one more hand to till land or hunt beast. Hungry mouths already beg.” Judging by the state of the villagers it was not just a lucky guess. The elder wasn’t the only one thinner than before. “I am skilled with steel and if you do not accept me I will hunt in fucking woods and bring back meat until you accept I will cause no harm.”

The elder pointed out over the houses in the direction of the forest. “Then starve.”

“He may remain,” Scorilo spoke for the first time. He had not taken his eyes off of Agron and he made no move to do so now. There was nothing forgiving in his voice. It was muted.

“Are you certain?” the elder asked.

“Harm was brought to me but he saved me from fire. If desire compels him to lend aid--” He made as if to shrug before wincing and stopping. “Let him.”

“I lay decision in your hands.”

“Then stay, Agron. Yet do not cross my path.”

Agron nodded. That would be easy enough. He had no wish to see Scorilo either. He wished only to complete his tasks and be gone.

Even after the elder and Scorilo left, the villagers-- including the recent ones that Agron had known-- did not approach. None save for Sibyl and…

“Saved not by words but tenacity of spirit,” Anlel spoke. He cast Agron a smile. “Should we hunt to prove worth first?”

“You’re a cunt.”

Anlel only smiled as Agron set off to find a suitable place to live. Of course Anlel chose the spot directly beside him.

 

Very few people trusted him but, as a month passed, at least he began to prove himself. He was entirely unsuited to farm work. Tilling and planting was not, and would never be, what he was destined for. Killing however, he was far more successful at, even if it was no longer Romans but wildlife.

Today though, he’d worked the land as the others did, from sunrise to sunset and he’d had no energy left to murder a hapless animal. He scrubbed off in water that chilled him but the cold was not unwelcome. And then he returned to his tent, having still been offered no house. For once, it didn’t take him over an hour to fall asleep, too busy fending off creeping thoughts until they took him over regardless. But he did not escape them in his dreams.

When Agron dreamed of Nasir, it was usually of him in battle or else as he had been the last time Agron had seen him: as a corpse or a mute and unfeeling slave. Sometimes he was subjected to the same horrors Agron knew he’d experienced when he’d been called Tiberius and on the days after those nights he would take an ax and return to the village with ample firewood. There were seldom any moments to hold onto in the morning. But this dream…

Nasir’s arms wrapped around Agron’s body as he pressed closer, nudging him back onto the bed in their room in Sinuessa-- or was it one of the villas they had conquered? The surroundings did not matter as Nasir rocked against him. Agron curled his fingers around Nasir’s nape to bring him back enough to kiss his neck. He bit. He sucked at Nasir’s skin. He scratched with his fingers as he felt nails dig into his back. Nasir groaned, urging for more, begging and calling his name.

Agron rolled them so that Nasir was on his back, panting and looking up at him with nothing but elation in his eyes. Agron unbuckled his armor. Nasir’s hand went to stroke his cock and just when he grew hard a very real arm slipped around his body.

Agron jolted awake and, if the darkness was the only sense he had, then he might have mistaken this man’s slim frame for Nasir but the scent told him it was not him.

“Agron,” a familiar voice whispered.

Agron shoved him back. “Anlel, the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“You do not desire--” Anlel’s bare chest pressed against Agron’s.

Which only caused Agron to plant his hand on said chest and shove him back. “Get the fuck out!”

In the darkness, Anlel still reached to brush his hand against Agron’s cheek. “I know--”

Agron seized his shoulders, bent him over so his ass was closest to him--

And kicked him out of the tent.

“Remove self from sight before you find blood spilling from chest, you fucking cunt!”

Not caring for the commotion he had caused as people peered out of their homes, Agron closed the flaps to his tent again, lay down, and jerked the threadbare blanket he had over his body. There weren’t enough curses he could give that could describe his feelings for that shit.

 

After that, if Anlel came near him, which the idiot did frequently, Agron made a point of glaring at him. If he was working the fields, he lifted his hoe and watched him until he left. It was much the same in the woods, only with a spear. If they would have let him he’d have set a trap directly inside his tent at night but Sibyl told him that was an overreaction and Anlel meant no harm. She was being overly generous but she had a point. After all, someone else could hurt themselves.

As the months grew on, it became clear that the crops were greatly improved this season. Some said that the gods had taken notice of them. Then they turned to Agron with a renewed interest, paying foolish attention to Sibyl’s words. Or perhaps she had been right and Proserpina had set him to do this for a reason. Other than fucking with him.

But he was not in the fields at that moment. They needed food now and he was out to hunt along with some of the others. Anlel was not by his side but Agron was not surprised when he heard someone come running up to him and succeed in chasing off the game.

“Agron,” he said once they were within sight of each other. “I have spied Roman sol--”

“What?” Agron lowered his spear and grabbed Anlel’s shoulder. “Romans are here?”

“Not ten miles east.” Anlel’s voice was hurried but he was gasping from exertion.

“How many?”

“I--” he hesitated. “Fifty perhaps? I have no mind for numbers.”

Agron moved past him. “I will take count myself.”

“Agron, pause!” Anlel grabbed his arm. “You have mark of slave. If we leave now we may yet find safety--”

Agron didn’t need a mirror to tell that his face was contorting. He turned on Anlel. “You would have me abandon both friends and battle?”

“I would keep us both alive.”

Agron grabbed Anlel’s hand, tore it off of him, and then clenched his own in a fist. He struck Anlel’s face. Anlel staggered, then stared open mouthed at Agron.

“Why have trouble grabbing your fucking cock?” Agron hissed. “You have little issue attempting to take hold of mine.”

“I meant no offense.” The words spilled out of Anlel’s mouth even as Agron moved away again. “Only--”

Agron held up his hand to silence him, then balled it into a fist again as a warning.

“You will show me Romans and break no words until we have found them.”

Agron paid Anlel no more mind, only channeled that anger into what he already felt for the Romans and let it hasten his steps as he doubled back to the village. But there were still trees surrounding him when a hand jerked at his spear. Agron’s grip on it was strong but whoever grasped it was far from weak and it could be only one person.

“Anlel!” Agron yelled as he tried to wrench his weapon back. “What possesses fucking mind?”

He lost all grip on Nasir’s spear completely and Anlel, now staring at him with nothing but coldness, swung the butt of it at Agron’s head. Agron barely ducked in time and sprang forward to knock his shoulder into Anlel’s midsection to bring him down. He might as well have hit rock. Agron was the one who crumpled.

“You could have lived life with another yet now find your end.” Anlel turned the spear in his hands, ready to bring the point down.

Unlike Nasir, he was too slow. Agron rolled, grabbed his sword, and swung the blade at Anlel’s leg. It stuck on bone. He screamed but it was not blood that flowed from the wound but sap. Nor, Agron realized, was it bone that the sword had struck.

Agron jerked his sword back. “The fuck?”

Anlel fell to his knees and as he did his form changed. The slimness of his body broadened. He grew taller and his features melted while his skin faded into a pale green. He was still strangely beautiful-- although Agron wasn’t sure if Anlel was a he.

“What are you?”

Anlel dropped the spear and placed their hand to their leg. Slowly the skin, or whatever it was, began to knit over.

“A nymph.”

Instead of questioning him, Agron grabbed the spear and ripped it away from Anlel and out of reach.

“Why would a fucking nymph take interest in me?”

“It was not of my own choosing. Ceres gave me task.”

“Another toy of the fucking gods,” Agron muttered. “What task? To sway me from freeing Nasir?”

Another voice, this one a woman’s answered him with a regal bearing. “You are more clever than you look.”

Agron looked behind him, then crawled to the side before standing so he could keep his eyes both on the nymph and the woman, whose resemblance to Proserpina was striking. Ceres, of course, only instead of dark hair she had brown. She was the same woman he’d glimpsed before.

“What reason do you have to interfere with deal not your own?” As always in his dealings with these fucking gods, Agron did his best to rein his temper in but that was nearly impossible. He only did it before because of Nasir but now there was no threat of dying by his hands. And if he could tear a god apart it would be fine to test his skill against this one.

“My daughter is surrounded by pawns of Pluto. I would not have it so.”

“Then she can find pet among Romans and never touch Nasir again!” Agron yelled. His hand tightened around his spear before he hefted it in the air and threw it.

When it struck Ceres it shattered and she remained standing with no blood to stain her dress.

“Fool.”

Before Agron could do more to turn his head, the nymph had struck the side of it. He fell, dazed. Golden sparks flickered in and out of his vision. He looked up in time to see his own sword, stripped from his hand, raised above him-- only to see the person wielding it knocked down as well, struck by a spear. Agron tilted his head in the direction it had come from. His vision was blurred and he did not trust it at first but as the man approached and his sight cleared, he knew it was Nasir.

He’d done it. He’d succeeded. Proserpina had kept her promise, her mother’s interference be damned, and now Nasir had returned to him.

His head still throbbed but he had never risen to his feet faster. Nasir stepped toward him and Agron couldn’t contain himself, couldn’t stop his grin as he reached for his lover to bring him close. Their lips met. Nasir’s hands went to his chest-- and he was pushed away and regarded only with confusion.

“Your tasks are not yet complete,” came Proserpina’s voice.

Agron only managed to take his eyes off Nasir as he retreated to step beside his domina, who had hardly glanced at Agron before turning her gaze on her mother. In contrast to how he had seen her before, her hair was golden now, her clothes made of light fabric.

“And you,” she continued, “will let him make attempt without further efforts to sway him. Fair deal was made.”

As Proserpina walked in front of her mother, Nasir retrieved his spear. He paused and glanced at Agron but his expression was still only puzzled. But he was starting to think for himself again. Agron hoped that was what the look meant instead of seeing him only as a threat.

He ignored the two arguing goddesses and cast his eyes only on Nasir.

“I told you once that my heart will never beat for another. It hasn’t. Nasir, do you recall me?” His voice hadn’t been this gentle in months, since he’d held Nasir in something more tangible than dreams alone.

Nasir shook his head and returned to Proserpina, who finally looked back at Agron.

“Return to Pluto, he will yet have more tasks for you.”

Agron retrieved his sword but did not sheathe it. “You bring Nasir to me and expect me to fucking leave him again! I have done what you asked, burned and planted crops.”

“Would you threaten us again?” Ceres asked. “Or see body join shattered spear?”

Agron didn’t lower his gaze but he recalled the sight of Nasir’s spear shattering. Nasir would not care, were he able to recognize what had happened. But it had been all that Agron had of him and now…

Now he wanted to shove the sword in his hands down their throats.

Proserpina sighed. “Then go with him.”

Nasir didn’t move and Proserpina had to stare directly at him and gesture as she would someone trying to rid themselves of a dog. “Go! Return when this is finished.”

Nasir gave Agron one last glance before moving off where he had come from. Agron always had a few days’ worth of food on him when he left the village, in case he had to stay away for many days, so he didn’t hesitate to follow.

“Nasir--” he started, struggling to keep up with the man who had been his lover. “Wait.”

But Nasir didn’t turn back, leading him for hours with no offer of support as Nasir had months ago, when Agron was recovering. Agron had never been out of shape and he wasn’t now. But the pace that Nasir set did not slow. If anything he only gained speed until Agron’s muscles screamed at him to stop.

“Nasir,” he gasped. When there was no response he lunged forward to grab Nasir’s arm.

Nasir’s hand closed around his wrist in response and jerked it away.

Agron shook his head quickly to show that whatever Nasir was thinking, Agron hadn’t meant it. “I need rest.”

Nasir regarded him for a moment then let go. They both stared at each other until Agron leaned against a tree before he allowed himself to risk sitting. Slowly, not taking his eyes off of Agron, Nasir sat as well.

“How are you here?” Agron asked once he’d caught his breath.

Nasir gave him the same puzzled look that seemed to be the only expression he knew.

“Shades cannot pass the river Charon again.” He knew that now from Sibyl. “Was exception made?”

“Domina provided my body,” Nasir spoke quietly and absent feeling, much as Agron imagined he had as a slave, using the same language.

Agron’s nails bit into his palms, leaving traces of blood in their wake. “I brought your body to you. That bitch had nothing to do with--”

Nasir stood, his expression hardening into one that Agron never wanted to see directed at him again.

“You know I speak truth,” Agron continued regardless. “You laid eyes on me.” _You know me. We loved each other._

But Nasir showed no sign of recognition.

“You swore to wear no collar again, to bear no chains.” Agron sucked in a deep breath.

He had known Nasir when he’d gone by another name. Misguided as he was, he’d been wild and passionate, not this blank, empty man before him. Still, Agron loved him. He could never imagine his feelings fading. Nasir had done this for him but what he felt could never be out of obligation.

“No chains bind me,” Nasir spoke, as quiet as ever.

“You fall to command of another. Unseen chains tighten around wrist.” Agron finally lowered his gaze. He couldn’t take another moment seeing that hollow look on Nasir. “Apologies,” he whispered. And then, to himself and not Nasir, “I will free you.”

He glanced up when he heard Nasir stand. He slowly walked over to Agron then sat by his side, all without taking his eyes off him.

“Nasir?” Agron asked.

There was something else in his lover’s face, something other than confusion. Sympathy or else concern.

“There is no cause to worry. I would choose no other path,” Nasir spoke in the same hushed tone.

“You would. I will show you.” As a counter to Nasir, Agron gave the promise with every emotion he had buried in his heart.

Nasir lifted his hand and stretched it across to Agron. Agron held it for some time, staring into dark eyes that had softened-- but still could not place him in memory. It was Nasir who pulled away and wordlessly began walking again without pausing to be sure that Agron followed.

When they arrived at the River Styx, Charon had few words to say to him. In fact, he had none. He merely regarded the two of them with interest before ushering them onto his boat. Agron waited to see if Nasir would sit by his side but they remained across from each other.

Agron tried to draw Nasir out again. He told him of how they first met, when he had tried to kill Spartacus, Agron’s initial distrust of him. Then he spoke of how he had almost lost him. He gave voice to words he’d never spoken to Nasir, how he had felt, what he thought when he kissed him, when they first made love and he held him in his arms, how fragile he had seemed and yet strong. And then how proud he was when Nasir became a true warrior. That he was all that mattered in this world.

Yet now, looking into his eyes, he saw that he no longer mattered at all to Nasir.

Cerberus lunged for him again as they passed. Agron barely noticed.


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, when Agron arrived in the underworld’s throne room, it seemed more despondent despite no outer change. Pluto’s mood had certainly plummeted as he sat with his chin in his hand, gazing with a stony expression at Agron. Nasir went to stand by the god and that only made Pluto scowl, presumably at the absence of the one Nasir had accompanied all winter.

“Proserpina sent you for yet more tasks?” Pluto asked.

“I have done what was asked.” Agron attempted to rein in his temper but the words came out accompanied by spit as he spoke too forcefully.

Nasir didn’t belong at the god of Hades’s side. He didn’t belong to Agron either, only to himself.

“I have more chores.”

“This was not part of agreement!” Agron yelled.

Pluto was unmoved. “Agreement was that there were yet more deeds for you to complete. These are miniscule. I tire of deal. Make attempt or leave.”

Agron slowed his breathing to bring his anger down. He had to negotiate, to make him see-- “I would see Nasir and I far from you now. Would you not be at peace then?”

“No,” Pluto said shortly. “There is little but chores now. See easy task to completion and your love to your arms, as I would have mine.” He waved to one of the spirits around him, who brought forth a vial to Agron.

“Cerberus has grown disobedient. See he drinks this, then return.”

Feed a dog. That was easy. Feed a giant dog with three heads that had tried to kill him when he first arrived. _That_ was hard. Still, Agron snatched the vial from whatever spirit it was.

“Did you give this to Nasir?” The words came out in a sharp hiss.

“What we have done to him is of no concern to you now. Go, before I lose patience and see him forever from your arms.”

Agron paused for a long moment. His eyes rested on Nasir. Now he knew what kept him complacent and that it would fade in time.

But knowing now that it was beyond useless and in fact dangerous to them both to attack a god, Agron left to give a dog fucking medicine.

 

Agron had convinced himself this would be easy. How many times had they given this liquid to the creature? A creature that was a fucking dog, no matter how large it was or how many heads it had.

Though when Agron finally approached the beast only to find it larger than it was in his memory, he revised his opinion. This was a fucking monster. It stood a hundred feet away but he could see it pawing restlessly at the ground. Charon’s boat arrived, ferrying shades of the elderly, young, and soldiers. It sniffed at them as they passed and the dead recoiled in their seats, causing the boat to sway, but it kept moving and the passengers were otherwise left alone. They didn’t have to face Cerberus. Agron did, and judging by the reaction it had to him both times he’d crossed, it wanted him dead.

Agron had to find a way to shove this vial down its throat, when it could easily tear his arm off, forget his hand, while devouring the rest of him with one of its other two heads.

But it had not attacked when Charon waved it away or when Nasir had been with him.

“Wait!” he yelled at the shades, an idea forming but one that was quickly dashed as they glanced his way-- and then left. It seemed that he would be on his own for this one. No one would help him fool Cerberus.

Cerberus, whose attention he had caught. The beast turned a single head Agron’s way but its job must have been to guard the river alone as it didn’t come after him.

What was it that Charon had told him? It consumed living flesh. He could see no meat around here, let alone something fresh. He couldn’t get to Charon’s boat.

Cerberus needed living flesh.

The beast was huge but if he could give it a treat…

Agron glanced at his arm.

Fuck the gods, this was a terrible idea and it was going to hurt.

First he stripped off some cloth from his tunic and coiled it around his hand. Then he gripped his sword. He wouldn’t be able to avoid cutting through to muscle, but he’d been without the use of his hands before. He would live without the use of his left arm alone.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself he’d been through worse pain. He pressed his blade to his skin as one would to butcher an animal and sliced.

He didn’t know or care if his scream rattled some restless spirit. But he gave the pain only a moment to overwhelm him before dropping his sword and tying the cloth around his bleeding arm. It stained red immediately. But it was the next part that turned his stomach. Seizing the vial, he poured it over the tissue that had been attached to his arm. Then he looked up as Cerberus came bounding toward him, drawn by both his scream and the smell of blood.

Agron ran immediately but kept looking back to see if the bait was taken. It was, Cerberus swooped it up with its tongue. And then it kept going.

“Fuck the gods, fuck. Fucking worthless shiteating dog…” Agron continued his blasphemous litany all the way up until a massive paw struck him.

He rolled through air as jaws snapped at him before plunging into a river he’d been warned not to touch.

Blood blossomed like an exploding rose in the water before clouding his vision entirely. He was no longer sure where was up, where was down, where he should fucking go. His arm stung even more than before as he stretched both arms out and kicked with his legs. He had no idea if he was going the right way but he didn’t have the choice of staying in place.

When he burst through the surface he gasped. He could hear Cerberus’s growls. His eyes focused just in time to see its head come close, jaws open, grasping his arm-- and then jerking back with a howl of frustration.

Agron glanced at his arm. The teeth had not punctured skin. There wasn’t even a bite mark. There wasn’t any wound either from when he’d cut himself. There was something with the river. It had changed him.

He looked at Cerberus, who paced the river bank. When it wasn’t barking it voiced its frustration in snarls.

Newly invulnerable, at least to giant dog bites, Agron didn’t care to risk leaving the river and presenting himself to Cerberus’s waiting jaws. It was still large enough to eat him whole. He’d rather not spend who knew how long being digested before being shat out.

With regret, he glanced at the sword that lay past Cerberus, and swam back the way he had come.

He was still dripping when he returned to Pluto. At the sight of him, the god sat straight up though Agron didn’t notice at first, he was too fixed on Nasir. Nasir, meanwhile, might as well have been a statue again, their previous moments forgotten.

Pluto soon called Agron’s attention however, by the sound of his harsh voice. “What have you done?”

“I fed your pet.” Agron glanced at Nasir again and again received nothing in return.

“You bathed in river?”

“I fell.” Agron grinned. “Does that pose fucking problem?” Maybe now he could strangle Pluto and take Nasir with him.

Pluto nodded at one of his subjects, who strode forward and punched Agron in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping. He reached to seize the shade’s shoulders and force it down to knee its stomach in return but his hands went through nothing more than smoke.

“Whatever thoughts you have, cast them out.” Pluto’s voice returned to its normal drawl though tenser than usual. “Since you cannot follow commands--”

“What fucking command was there other than to give medicine to dog?” Agron yelled.

“Charon instructed you,” Pluto replied. “You have but two more tasks. See them to completion. There are souls yet to find their way to Elysium. Escort them.”

Agron paused. First he had to play farmer, then he had to play medicus, now he was a fucking escort?

“What of second task?”

For the first time, Pluto’s lips curved up into a slight smirk. “Return and discover.”

Agron was not easily intimidated or scared, but that sight made his body convulse in a shudder. He looked to Nasir one last time. “Forget these fucks, come with me.” He now knew how to get past Cerberus. And if he could throttle Charon, cast him overboard, and get them across himself…

Nasir tightened his grip on the new spear he’d been given.

“A poor effort,” Pluto commented. “May your next fare better.”

For yet one more time, Agron had to leave Nasir. He swore it would be the last.

 

Agron’s directions took him around another river in Hades so he did not come across Cerberus again. That was fortunate for them both. Agron wanted something to kill. Cerberus wanted something to eat. They both would have likely killed each other. As it was, Agron was still seething when he came across the souls he was to guide.

What he saw only made him burn harder. At least these Roman fucks he could beat the crap out of. The legionnaires still wore their armor, covered in blood. It didn’t bother him that they were already dead, Agron charged and slammed his fist into the closest one available.

“Kill the fuck!” One of them shouted as they reached for swords that were no longer there.

“He’s already dead,” another replied, this one apparently more cognizant of his situation.

Agron grabbed the strap of one of their armor and pulled him in the direction of Elysium.

The man tried to free himself from his grip. “You are slave?”

“I stand no fucking slave. I followed Spartacus and now I’m your fucking salvation.” He tightened his hold on the Roman shit and dragged him, not caring when he slipped and fell. “I hope you spend the afterlife meeting Spartacus’s fist, you shiteating cunts.”

It was odd to consider he might meet Spartacus now. All his focus, all his thoughts and energy, had rested on Nasir. Nasir was what kept him going and sane. Trying to save him. But now his thoughts drifted elsewhere, even as he snapped and yelled at and occasionally fought these stupid fucks he would rather drown in the river Lethe.

How large was Elysium? Would he see Spartacus? Or his brother-- surely Duro had to be there. Sibyl said that fallen heroes would live there and Duro had died in battle.

He could see his brother.

The teasing thought, combined with the knowledge that there were already so many souls there, only made him punch one of the Roman soldiers, who had already found he could not retaliate against someone who was now invulnerable. Fortunately for them, bruises no longer seemed to form on their appearance.

But when they found Elysium they all stopped. Agron would never be able to describe it. Bright green and shimmering grass flowed like water that rippled not from a stream but air. Hills rolled in front of him. It was far from crowded but only because there was a giant expanse that had been invisible moments before but Agron now wondered at how he could have missed it.

He dropped the Roman immediately and left them to discover Elysium for themselves.

“DURO!”

People parted for him as he ran through the fields, searching for the only person he could think of now. He stopped, looked around, and realized he’d lost sight of where he’d come from. There was nothing but greenery around him and people interspersed among it. But he didn’t care that he was lost. He just cared about...

Someone punched his shoulder. He spun around and saw his brother grinning at him, face clean, eyes alert, looking as he’d been in life when they were at their peak in Batiatus’s ludus. Only now he was clothed in the tunic he had worn before they were captured.

“You still look like an ugly cunt, brother.” Duro held out his arm.

Agron ignored it in favor of pulling him into a tight hug. “You look far worse, little shit.” But when he pulled back, he grinned and grabbed his brother’s chin. “Look, your sight turns my stomach.” Agron’s smile broke and he bit his lip.

Duro pressed their foreheads together. “I missed you as well.”

Agron brought his hand to rest on Duro’s shoulder and breathed, then gasped, then shook with quiet sobs.

“Don’t cry,” Duro told him.

“You fucking leave me and tell me not to cry.” Agron pulled back and hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“You kept your life because of me,” Duro reminded him. “If cost is leaving you I would pay it again. You lived well without me.”

“I lived like shit until I met Nasir.” Agron took a breath. “We have many words to break.”

Duro nodded. He laid his hand over Agron’s shoulder as well and gripped it. “Spartacus has broken words already. I know of Nasir.”

“Where is Spartacus?”

“Beside you and of no desire to interrupt reunion,” the familiar voice replied instead of Duro.

Agron turned to see his leader, friend, and brother smiling at him.

“Yet I see that I have,” Spartacus continued.

Agron let go of Duro though he did not step away. He only offered his arm to Spartacus, who clasped it.

“I do not lay eyes upon you in my life, yet you lay them on me in yours,” Spartacus spoke. “How did this come to pass?”

“A tale I would care to hear.”

Agron turned to see Crixus and next to him Naevia, Gannicus, Mira, Donar, Oenomaus, Lugo, and Saxa. He clasped arms with each of them, including the fucking Gaul, who he had come to respect, admire, and call his own leader before his death.

“You have heard word of nails that pierced flesh?” He turned to Duro, largely asking the question of him.

“By Romans who need fucking nail up ass,” Duro answered with a glower not directed at his brother.

Agron assumed then that they all knew what had happened until Spartacus’s death. He continued the story after that, how they had left the mountains, how infection had set in, all the way to his death. But when he began to tell of Nasir’s he found himself halting.

“He died?” Spartacus asked.

“As payment for my life he is to be slave for fucking eternity to Prosperina.”

Not one of his friends nor his brother refrained from cursing the goddess and gods in general at this news.

“You are here to free him.” Naevia did not pose it as a question. It was a statement of fact.

“They gave me fucking chores until I prove worth.”

Spartacus exchanged a look with those he had held counsel with in life, absent Agron.

“Chores?” he asked. “They have not yet given you great feat?”

“Not by tales of legend,” Agron spoke. “One yet remains.”

“Take caution. The gods would not so easily give you Nasir now that they have taken him.”

“And what would you know of the gods?” Mira teased him, earning a subdued smile from Spartacus.

At least they had resolved some things in the afterlife. Agron wondered if Spartacus had been reunited with his wife. There might not be time to ask, not until he followed him to the afterlife. He hoped that would not be for many years and only with Nasir by his side.

“I fell in river Styx. Even Cerberus could not harm me. Nothing will keep me from Nasir.”

“I have faith in words,” Spartacus assured him as he clasped his arm again. “Yet heed mine.”

“I always have.” Agron touched his friend’s shoulder. “And always shall.”

They said their farewells. Naevia and Mira in particular singled him out to tell him to free Nasir. Naevia told him to say that she would wait to greet him. But it was Agron who sought Gannicus out, still not straying far from his brother.

“Sibyl wished that I could free you,” Agron told the fallen general.

Gannicus laughed. “Sibyl wished for many things I could not give her. Tell her I am content here and that I will wait for her. She should spend her time with one more deserving until it is her time to follow.”

“She held you deserving,” Agron said before Gannicus clasped his arm as a goodbye.

Agron turned to Duro again.

His brother smiled at him. “We should see you to Nasir’s arms. I know way.” Duro led him through the field, which Agron could make no sense of.

“You are happy?” Agron asked.

“In company of friends and knowing my brother lives on? You expect me to not be?” Duro gave Agron that same stupid grin of his.

“Good.” He paused but then continued. “But you may still come with me and return to the living.”

Duro did not answer right away. “I have no body. I would be shade.”

“Yet I would hold your company above all others’.”

“Save Nasir.”

Agron did not deny it. “I could not choose between you.”

“Before choice is forced into hands, I will remove it. I’m staying.” Before Agron could protest, Duro clapped his back. “Tell me of Nasir. I wish to hear of him through your own fucking mouth.”

Agron told him of Nasir, and then he told him of the rest of his life. He talked about his victories, his defeats, the time he had spent lost both without his brother and without his lover. He didn’t notice at first when they reached the edge of Elysium but then the rivers, dreary and murky, came suddenly into view.

“Duro…” he began.

“I will wait for you,” Duro told him as he backed away. “When it is your time.”

“I’m proud of you,” Agron told him.

“I’m proud of you, too. Save him.” Duro replied before shoving Agron out of Elysium.

 

After a few moments of hesitation, Agron walked back in the direction of Pluto’s throne room. However, just as he was nearly there, he saw the god gathered around with his lessers. They were watching the river Styx.

“You have arrived in time,” Pluto called to him and waved him over, far more jovial than Agron had ever seen him. “Watch river with care.”

Agron didn’t see what part of his ordeal this was but he didn’t obey at first. He looked around for Nasir only to find him absent. And yet his armor was held by one of the demons.

“Where is Nasir!” he demanded.

Pluto gestured to the river again. “Watch.”

Just as Agron turned his eyes on the Styx, he saw a form emerge, a body he recognized instantly. Nasir was naked. Dark water flowed down his body and dripped from his long hair, leaving trails that Agron wanted to wipe away with his hand. But the thought was drowned in concern when he saw a look of death on his love, not one caused by mortality but one of someone to wield it as a blade.

The spirit with his armor quickly dressed him in it until he was covered again.

“Nasir.” Pluto addressed him for the first time. He pointed to Agron. “Kill this man.”

Nasir took his spear from a nearby shade. His expression was not cold. It was hateful.

They were both invulnerable now. The match was uneven as Nasir had a spear. But more importantly, Agron had sworn he would never harm Nasir. He was sure Nasir had done the same.

Yet now Nasir was going to kill him.


	5. Chapter 5

Agron had only his hands to defend himself and he doubted whether or not he could bring himself to even use them beyond trying to rip Nasir’s spear from his grasp, a feat he questioned. He watched as Nasir advanced towards him with slow, certain steps.

“I followed fucking deal!” Agron yelled.

“This is final test,” Pluto replied. “See it to completion, lay him low, and you may have him.”

There was no time for Agron to voice any pleas or curses. Nasir’s spear would soon come within range.

“Nasir--”

Agron had to jump back to avoid the swing of the spear, aimed at his midsection. This was not sparring, as Nasir had done countless times while he trained the recruits. He was skilled at knowing how to hold back just enough. He could put on a show for Pluto if he wanted and allow Agron to believably overcome that. He wasn’t doing it.

“Take pause and fucking listen!” Agron had to roll to avoid another sweep of the spear then scrambled to get his legs out of the way of a lunge that would have either shattered the spear or left him bruised. Agron didn’t want to guess.

“I love you!” he nearly screamed.

There was no hesitation as Nasir reacted to Agron’s attempts to stand by knocking his legs out from under him with the shaft of his spear. But he had helped train Nasir with the spear, he had fought with it since he was a child. While the sword was more familiar, he knew this weapon and he knew the way in which Nasir handled it. As he landed on his back, Agron kicked out and his foot collided with the spear. He both heard and felt the wood splinter.

He sprang back up in time to see that the weapon hadn’t been cracked in two but it was effectively rendered useless against any assault but one.

Nasir threw it at him. It turned out the spear did shatter but the momentum of it knocked Agron back onto the ground and the impact left him dazed. Nasir climbed on top of him and, while familiar legs straddled him, hands that had loved him reached to throttle him.

Agron grabbed both of them. At least here he had the upperhand. Nasir was suited to agility and speed. Agron used his force with powerful strikes of his sword and forceful blows.

When he stared into Nasir’s blazing eyes he felt his heart fall apart like the spear had moments before, crushed against an immovable force that felt nothing for him. He couldn’t fight back.

“I held your heart once. I know you yet hold memory of it.” Agron still struggled against Nasir’s reaching hands, slowly pushing them back. “Bring it to mind! Remember. You will regret--”

Nasir’s hands were almost to his chest and it was then that he bashed his head against Agron’s. A sharp pain spread over the bridge of his nose. Blood flowed down his nostrils and onto a split lip.

Agron used the surge of anger at the strike, at the gods, at anything but a Nasir who was now a stranger to him, and shoved his former lover away from him. Nasir quickly pushed himself up but Agron grabbed him by the arms and pinned him down.

“The gods themselves will not wrest you from my arms.” Blood still dripped from his face and onto Nasir’s.

Nasir’s face twisted, his lips pulled back in a snarl. He wrenched one hand free of Agron’s grip and latched onto his windpipe. Fingers dug into Agron’s flesh and squeezed.

The air from Agron’s gasps for breath never made it past his throat. The force of Nasir’s grip was going to crush him soon and prevent him from ever breathing again. Agron pulled at Nasir’s arm but it would not move. There were sparks flickering in his eyes as his vision darkened.

One last drop of blood fell onto Nasir’s gritted teeth.

Nasir’s eyes widened, the look of hate melting into horror. He released Agron, who fell onto him, gasping and failing to register the god of the underworld swearing. Only Nasir’s broken voice did.

“Agron?”

Nasir’s arms enveloped him as Agron panted and his head fell to Nasir’s neck, pressed there against his warmth.

“A blood sacrifice!” Pluto yelled.

Agron didn’t care what that meant or what had brought Nasir back. He only cared for how tightly Nasir clung to him and the murmured “apologies” that reached his ears over and over.

“None needed,” Agron whispered. His voice was hoarse and he still gasped but he pushed himself up so he could look at Nasir and finally see himself recognized in those eyes.

He stroked Nasir’s hair back out of his face to rid him of the wild look that Agron never wanted to see again. Nasir brought his hand to Agron’s face to stroke his cheek. Fingers curled along the curve of his jaw.

“You will always hold my heart,” Nasir promised.

Agron kissed him not for that but for the love he felt in his own heart, which had never stopped beating for Nasir. Nasir moved to bury his fingers in Agron’s hair and though the taste of blood filled both their mouths, neither stopped.

“Leave.” Judging by the tone of disdain and disappointment, Pluto’s anger had given way to a sulk. “Promise was given. Next you place foot in Hades you will not return to the living.”

Agron took Nasir’s hand before moving away. He pulled him up with him, intending to go as Pluto had ordered, but his arms wound their way around Nasir’s body as he pulled him close again.

“Apologies,” Nasir said again, the words flowing from his mouth with as much sincerity as the countless times spoken before.

Agron hushed him. “You were not yourself.”

Nasir pressed his head against Agron’s chest, but then he slowly turned to face Pluto. Agron looked to them as well and found the god and his procession of followers leaving. Nasir broke away from Agron’s arms and walked with purpose, hands balled into fists.

Agron grabbed his arms. “No,” he hissed. “We cannot take vengeance on gods, I’ve fucking tried. You are free. I will not lose you again.”

Nasir froze. He was turned away from Agron, who could imagine the conflict overcoming his lover until Nasir’s hands unclenched.

Agron gently pulled him back but not in the direction of Charon. “I would have you meet someone.”

Nasir walked along with him but on the journey there they were not silent. At least, Agron was not.

“What possessed you to think this was what I desired?” Agron couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Nasir though, only the gods.

“It was what I desired,” Nasir answered and his calmness finally managed to infuriate Agron.

“You selfish--” Agron silenced himself by pulling Nasir back into his arms and kissing him. “Never make decision on my behalf again, nor sacrifice life and freedom.”

“Never freedom,” Nasir promised.

Agron shook his head. That would do for now.

They continued. Nasir asked about what had happened during the tasks, apparently remembering what Agron had been sent to do, but Agron kept shaking his head again and repeating that it didn’t matter. Nasir was here. Any trials he’d suffered were of little concern. But one weighed on Nasir’s mind.

“Agron, I cannot give excuse--”

“Nasir, any harm is forgotten.” Agron realized that he had found the place he’d searched for suddenly halted before Elysium.

A chasm blocked him from entering.

“Fuck, I could enter before-- have they barred me forever?” He looked for a familiar face across the fissure.

“No, task is complete. You have no need to enter yet.” Nasir squeezed Agron’s hand.

But Agron had found who he was looking for.

“DURO!” he called but received only a wave in return. “There,” Agron pointed at him. “He is there.”

Somehow, despite the distance through which he couldn’t hear whatever it was that Duro was saying back to him, Agron could clearly see his brother smile.

Agron looked at Nasir to confirm he was looking at the right person. He was and Nasir looked on with interest though a sadness took over his features.

“I will have to wait to meet him,” he said.

“For a long fucking time. But you will.” It was as much an assurance to himself as anything. He stared at Duro for a long time before his brother walked off after one last grin.

Agron was quieter on the walk back to Charon’s boat. Cerberus, fortunately, let them pass but not before Agron had retrieved his sword. Nasir held him back from kicking the giant, deformed dog.

On the ride there, Nasir was finally able to coax some of the stories from Agron. He primarily told him of meeting their friends in Elysium and of Duro. Then came what had happened in the living world. He spoke little of anything else and long before the end of it, Nasir had settled comfortably in his arms.

Once they left Styx behind them without a word from Charon, Agron led him through the winding cave he’d first carried his corpse through. When they reached the sunlight, the dead plants that had been around it were now blooming. Proserpina stood before them, a frown on her face before she turned and left. Again, Nasir started after her and for a moment Agron was afraid that he was going to follow her for eternity until he realized he was going to pummel her if he caught her. By the time he came to that conclusion, Nasir had taken off and Agron had to run after him.

“Nasir!” he yelled but Nasir didn’t stop until the third time he called his name. Agron ran right into him and knocked them both over and against a tree, which broke in half at the impact.

“We still have our strength,” Nasir said, still panting but more from anger than anything else.

“Then one day we may use it to punish the gods themselves,” Agron breathed hard as well until Nasir kissed him, hard and desperate and then he didn’t breathe at all.

Nasir was too distracting, or perhaps he was not distracting at all. Agron should have all his focus on him, as he had for months. Now, finally, Nasir had been returned to his arms.

“Take me to your home,” Nasir said after finally pulling away.

“It’s four days march from here. We will have empty bellies before then.” Agron’s gaze kept drifting to Nasir’s lips.

“We must be quick then.” Nasir smiled and gave him one last, brief kiss. He moved away before Agron could demand more with his body.

They walked with their hands linked and Agron found that, now that he knew where they were going, the progress was faster than the first time he’d meandered to the village. But he could not forget the brutal pace Nasir had set him on when they returned to Hades, nor the hesitant reassurances from him. There was nothing hesitant now as Nasir, sensing the thoughts that Agron had fallen to, placed his arm around him to stroke his back.

They paused. Agron grabbed Nasir and lifted him into his arms for several quick, lingering kisses before Nasir gently reminded him that they needed to be on their way again.

When night fell, they had no pallet to lie on nor blanket to cover themselves in. They cleared the ground and lay upon it. Agron wrapped his arm around Nasir to bring him close. Instead of lying front to back, Nasir faced Agron. His hands drifted across Agron’s chest before moving up his neck and to his face.

“Gratitude.”

“None needed.” Agron brought their lips together. The force of their kisses kept splitting his lip open. This time was no exception, starting off gentle and then increasing in intensity until he started rocking his hardening cock between the hollow of Nasir’s thighs as legs spread for him. But the friction of that became too much and he had to stop.

Nasir started to push Agron on his back to climb on top of him but Agron did the same to him in return.

“Let me,” he said softly.

He stripped Nasir of the armor he’d been given, hands gently unclasping and loosening each buckle and clasp despite the desperation that left his cold hands shaking. As soon as his armor was off, Nasir covered Agron’s hands with his own. Agron waited until they were warm, kissing Nasir all the while. Then Nasir pulled away and slipped his hands under Agron’s tunic to remove it.

Nasir shivered beneath Agron. Agron too was trembling though he couldn’t be sure if either of them shook from the cold or the anticipation.

“Agron.”

Agron bit Nasir’s lip and tugged on it. His hands wandered over his body, exploring every inch, feeling its warmth. His palm rested over Nasir’s heart to feel its beat before he moved down, lips dragging across Nasir’s neck, to kiss his chest and feel the pulse against his mouth.

Nasir kept touching him but each time his hands stroked across Agron’s skin, Agron moved lower. His teeth scraped across Nasir’s stomach and his fingers drifted across the inside of Nasir’s thighs, prompting a shiver from his lover that was decidedly not from the night’s chill.

When Agron took Nasir’s cock in his mouth, Nasir cried out. The noise spread, echoing across the area, but only heard and treasured by Agron.

Nasir dug his fingers in Agron’s hair. His nails scraped lightly across Agron’s scalp as he thrust into his mouth. Agron let him move into him, adjusting with each buck of Nasir’s hips, anticipating each one. When he pulled away Nasir was moaning and begging, alternately faintly and loudly, for more. Instead of giving him that release, Agron slid up Nasir’s body. He kissed his way to Nasir’s lips before he had to move up so he could press his cock against Nasir’s.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He reached between them so they would stay together. Nasir enveloped Agron in his arms but soon he was clinging to him instead of holding him as Agron rocked into him, letting their cocks slide over each other. Nasir moaned, thrusting up, gaining more friction. He buried his head in Agron’s chest. Agron felt his breaths falling on his own flesh. He felt his muscles tightening, especially his cock and he’d never wanted his own climax more than now, with Nasir beneath him, with them both alive.

Nasir yelled when he came, the sound fading into a soft hiss and Agron cried a few moments later when all the sensation he’d been building up to came at him at once. The pleasure rising in him overflowed and he spilled across Nasir.

Shaking, he grabbed Nasir’s waist and rolled onto his back, taking his lover with him. Nasir had him straddled and before they had even settled was already kissing him.

When they parted, Agron stared into Nasir’s eyes. “No one will take you from me again.”

 

Agron had been right. By the time they reached the village, they had eaten the last of their food. The last two nights had not been filled with making love as the first two had been. They had simply huddled together for warmth-- and exchanged promises and whispered words, speaking of love and their future.

Their mood declined considerably in the mornings.

“It’s there,” Agron said. He pointed. “We veered east.”

“I see it,” Nasir grumbled.

He was probably still grumpy from having their one attempt at sex that morning interrupted by some rabbit bounding through. In their desperate scramble, they’d failed at killing it.

“A few more hours and we will see bellies filled.” Agron stroked down Nasir’s hair in an attempt to smooth it. It had grown unruly the past few days. It didn’t suit the little man but Agron didn’t give a fuck.

An hour later, they were met halfway by Sibyl.

“Nasir! By the gods, I thought you lost, Agron yet you return him to us.” Sibyl threw her arms around Nasir, who summoned the energy and good will to return the embrace.

“We have much to tell, Sibyl,” Agron spoke. “But first, we need some fucking food.”

 

No one would stop bothering them even after they ate. Nasir in particular seemed of interest, since it was known to everyone that he had died. It was close to dusk by the time they were left alone. Nasir crawled into their tent first and lay on the pallet. Agron quickly joined him.

“I care for Sibyl yet I fear exhaustion should I stay.”

“I do not wish to stay here either.” Agron ran his hand through Nasir’s hair before enfolding him in his arms, holding him as close as he could. He sighed as Nasir reached behind him to lay his hand on Agron’s thigh. “We can seek happiness elsewhere, build our own home.”

“My home is with you.” Nasir turned to face him. “As is all happiness, a fact you should know.”

“A fact well known,” Agron smiled. “My place,” he leaned in for a kiss. “is forever with you.”

Agron felt Nasir’s smile as their lips met. His arms encircled Nasir for the rest of that night and the countless more that followed.


End file.
